


Beds

by Drakontion



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-16
Updated: 2010-08-16
Packaged: 2017-10-17 05:35:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/173453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drakontion/pseuds/Drakontion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>In the cool of early dawn, two boys lie entwined in the womb-like darkness of their canopied bed. There is just enough light glimmering through the gaps in the closed curtains to make out the gleam of naked pale skin. The boy with the long black hair lies back, cradling the other in his leanly muscular arms. The boy with the short brown hair rests his head on the other's chest, hand measuring heartbeat, and smiles in sleepy satiated contentment. Stirring with the sun, they turn to each other and greet the day with a kiss, ardent with youth and innocent in their passion.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Beds

**Author's Note:**

> In the cool of early dawn, two boys lie entwined in the womb-like darkness of their canopied bed. There is just enough light glimmering through the gaps in the closed curtains to make out the gleam of naked pale skin. The boy with the long black hair lies back, cradling the other in his leanly muscular arms. The boy with the short brown hair rests his head on the other's chest, hand measuring heartbeat, and smiles in sleepy satiated contentment. Stirring with the sun, they turn to each other and greet the day with a kiss, ardent with youth and innocent in their passion.

In the cool of early dawn, two boys lie entwined in the womb-like darkness of their canopied bed. There is just enough light glimmering through the gaps in the closed curtains to make out the gleam of naked pale skin. The boy with the long black hair lies back, cradling the other in his leanly muscular arms. The boy with the short brown hair rests his head on the other's chest, hand measuring heartbeat, and smiles in sleepy satiated contentment. Stirring with the sun, they turn to each other and greet the day with a kiss, ardent with youth and innocent in their passion.

 _Love you Moony._

They smile, the day is just beginning.

 _Love you Padfoot._

On a bright, cheerful morning, two youths lie in an untidy sprawl of limbs, clothes askew and missing and pale flesh kissing the balmy breeze. The youth with the long black hair rests his head on the other's stomach and smiles as he listens to the fierce growling within. They both laugh, the one even more as his head bounces in time to the other's mirth. The youth with the short brown hair softly strokes the silky skin of his companion as he smiles his tenderness.

 _Love you Padfoot._

They hold each other in the contentedness of those who know the world is just for them.

 _Love you Moony._

On a rainy afternoon, two young men lie together on a bed as far away from each other as they can possibly get. In an uncomfortable silence, they both study the ceiling intently, searching for interesting marks or obvious flaws to occupy their attention. The young man with the long black hair tenses as the other sighs, then slowly gets up. As he puts on his shirt the young man with the short brown hair avoids looking at his lover, lying naked and defenceless on rumpled sheets. He leaves the room and shuts the door firmly behind him.

 _Love you Moony._

On the other side of the door he lets the tears fall at last.

 _Love you Padfoot._

On a quiet evening, two men lie together as they have not done for years, cradled in warmth and comfort and love and light. The man with the long black hair stares desperately at the face of the other, leaning anew his familiar features. The man with the short brown hair tenderly holds his lover, wondering at the etchings of time and suffering in his face. They gaze intently into each others eyes, re-remembering how it was and discovering how it is now. They talk softly, reminiscing on stolen moments together, moments much like this one except that they were young and bright and free.

 _Love you Padfoot._

They smile, content to take each moment as an unlooked for blessing.

 _Love you Moony._

In the darkest depths of night a man lies alone in a bed that should be holding two. His body curves, waiting in vain for a familiar other to join it. Hands clenched in grief and denial, he waits for the words that will never come.

 _Love you Padfoot._


End file.
